A rail-thin girl perhaps a year older than them was reading on the couch. She had shoulder-length wavy hair the color of cornmeal, rosy skin, and black lipstick that made as bold a statement as her kohl-lined eyes. She wore riding leathers, long boots, and a blazer with wine-red cuffs. A dragon-shaped silver cuff curled around the shell of her right ear, and her left hand had iron claw rings on each finger. Elara couldn’t tell if they were relics, embedded with a piece—and thus the magic—of a deceased dragon, or if they were just decoration.
The girl surged to her feet as soon as she saw them, her smile blinding. “You’ve arrived! Oh, you must be Elara Vincent.”
Before Elara could confirm, she was pulled into a hug. It was warm and welcoming but wildly overfamiliar. She blinked and then blinked again when the girl pulled away, before she could decide whether to hug her back.
“I’m Torrence Kelley, but you can call me Torrey. It’s so exciting to meet you!” She hugged Signey next and then turned, a hurricane of energy that Elara could hardly keep up with. “Jes, they’re here!”
From the mouth of the hallway, a boy strolled toward them. Tall and muscular, with copper skin a shade darker than Signey’s and a large beauty mark on the right side of his jaw, he, too, was dressed in his riding leathers, except his boots only went halfway up his shins and his flameproof long-sleeved shirt was wine red. Fluffy dark brown hair bounced against his thick eyebrows as he walked.
“Finally,” he said as he enveloped Signey in a hug. “It took you guys long enough.”
“This is my brother, Jesper. Torrey is his Wingleader.” Signey took Elara’s arm and dragged her farther into the room like a dog on a leash. “Their dragon is Azeal, who you’ll see later.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” said Jesper. Unlike his Wingleader, he made no move to hug Elara, though he seemed no less friendly. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”
“You have? From who?”
“The den can all hear one another and our dragons if we want to.” Signey’s hand was tense on her arm, and Elara felt Signey force herself to relax before her nails drew Elara’s blood. “We’re behind in your training, but things should move quickly now that we’re at Hearthstone. She doesn’t know a lot, so go easy on her.”
“What’s a den?” Elara finally asked.
Signey tensed again, and this time her fingers dug unpleasantly into Elara’s skin. Elara pulled out of her grip and put some space between them.
“A den,” Jesper explained, “is a group of dragons that were born from eggs that hatched at the same time at the Nest. All dragon eggs are laid in an area at the Beacon Dragon Preserve called the Nest, but not all dragon eggs hatch at the same time. When they do, those dragons tend to consider one another siblings, and their Riders become a family called a den.”
Elara tucked the Beacon Dragon Preserve away as something to look up later. She could see now that every basic question she asked would reflect badly on Signey as her co-Rider, and she wasn’t in the mood to find a spiteful satisfaction in that. Maybe with everyone else, she could use her ignorance to her advantage, but she wanted to get on the good side of the people who would have access to where she slept.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” she sent awkwardly through their bond. Talking to someone in her head wasn’t as easy as Signey made it look; she could feel her lips moving silently.“I’m still just trying to get used to everything, and it feels as if there’s so much I don’t know. I thought it would be safe to ask your… your den.”
“There’s nothing we can do about that now,” Signey snapped back.Herlips weren’t moving, Elara noted bitterly.“Just stop talking before you make it worse.”
“Why do you always have to be so—”
“I’ll show you to your room,” Signey said. Elara realized that an embarrassing silence had fallen over the room while they’d been trading thoughts. Torrey was on the couch now, Jesper beside her with his chin hooked over her shoulder to read the book. From here, she couldn’t see the title. Perhaps it was homework.
Elara followed Signey down the hallway, discovering that each bedroom was already labeled with a name on a golden plaque. At the very end of the corridor was a door that just had a piece of paper with her name taped to it.
“I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted,” she said.
“Insulted, obviously,” said Signey. “They don’t think you’ll be here very long.”
Elara hoped that she wouldn’t be, for reasons she was sure differed from Signey’s, but she made herself ask the question anyway: “What happens to Riders who don’t get certified?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
Signey pushed open the door, abandoning her in the hallway. Scowling, Elara stepped inside after her, kicked the door closed, and finally allowed herself to explode. “What iswrongwith you?”
“Excuse me?”
“You’ve been talking down to me since we met! And I could handle it—sort of—when we were in San Irie. But I can’t deal with this attitude when I’m inyourcountry with allyourfriends.” Elara barely managed to keep from shouting, and only because she didn’t want Torrey and Jesper to overhear. “Do you think I want to be here? Do you think Iwantto be your co-Rider? I’m trying my best to deal with everything, and all you seem to be trying to do is drive me to commit a murder.”
Signey’s eyebrows lifted until they were almost one with her hairline. “You’retrying your best to deal with everything?You?You’ve been staring open-mouthed, making absolutely no effort to learn anything that matters, and you’re the one whose life is supposedly on the line! At this rate, you’ll be the first person to learnexactlywhat happens to Riders who flunk out of Hearthstone.”
Elara’s entire face felt as if it were on fire. Her blood was a hot pulse beneath her skin. She could hear her heartbeat ringing in her ears. For a moment, she thought she was succumbing to the Fury again, but then she realized that she’d just never been this livid before in her life. It had bubbled up so suddenly, so strongly, that it overflowed into the bond, and Signey’s equal ire met hers in the middle, meshing together, building upon each other until Elara couldn’t tell whose wrath was whose. The air between them felt electric, sizzling with dark hostility.
It was terrifying. It was infuriating.
It was exhilarating.
